First of all, I would like to apologize for being MIA. My last post was years ago, I think. I miss writing and here I am. Back in action, sorta.
It have been a wild ride for me since my last post. Relapse, relapse and relapse. Depression mostly. It was tiring and exhausting. After a year of my leave of absent from school, I decided to return to school even though I’m still unstable. I was hoping by keeping myself busy will help me in recovering from depression. Na-ah. I was wrong. My depression was getting worse and I’m once again have to skip school as I have no motivation and energy to do my work.
Now, you may think it couldn’t get any worse than that. Nope, again, I was wrong. Sometimes in June or July this year, I noticed that my legs (especially my knees) are getting weaker. I’d ignored it as I thought maybe I’m getting heavier. One day, when I was in a toilet, after doing my business, I tried to stand up. I felt. I tried to get up but I can’t feel my legs. I screamed and my parent heard and rushed to the toilet. Since I’m morbidly obese, my parent couldn’t help to lift me up.
So, I just sat there and anxiously thinking what should I do. My mom contacted her friend and asked him to come to our house to help and lift me up. I sat on the toilet’s floor for an hour till the help came. He managed to lift me up and I walked to my room and cry. After awhile, I decided to change my clothes (I sat on the toilet’s floor. How filthy is it?). When I got up from my bed, I felt down again. This time, I called an ambulance to fetch me and bring me to hospital. Something is wrong here.
General hospital. What else can I say. The service was horrible. I spend 6 days at the emergency area before they decided to let me go home. Better yet, they have done almost nothing to figure out what happen to my legs. I barely can walk. As soon as I reach home, when I’m about to reach the front door, I felt again. Luckily there were a few people assisted me to get into bed. Since then, I’m bedridden. I can’t stand or walk. We tried massage and cupping, but none seems to work.
After few weeks bedridden, it’s time to go for my psychiatry appointment. Since I can’t walk, I need help to get to/from wheelchair. My psychiatrist wasn’t satisfied with the investigations that conducted by the previous hospital and decided to refer me back to the hospital. And this time, they did really do something. I spend more than 3 weeks in the hospital until I was discharged at the end of August. And yet, I still can’t walk.
Now, I’m bedridden, depressed and suicidal. I have no idea what will happen to me in the future. Although there is some improvement (I can sit and move my legs on my own), but still not enough. I want to be normal again and complete my PhD. I miss being me. I miss being independent. And I hate wearing diapers.